I Will Be Reborn
by COMPuterDREAMs
Summary: ..."Tifa, this isn't a miracle. I'm being serious. I'm giving birth to Sephiroth. He's coming back. Through me." het, mpreg


Hoo, boy. Never thought I'd have enough balls to post something like this. Yeah. As for warnings, **het**, **mpreg**. I know, strange combination. Haha, I just can't write a good yaoi couple. Believe me, I've tried. So for now, I'll have to make do with this.

* * *

He shot upright, his breath coming out in short huffs. His eyes glanced around the room and eventually, he threw back the covers and set his feet on the floor. He was hot and covered in a thick sheen of sweat. He dragged his forearm across his brow and frowned. He would never get back to sleep tonight. As much as he hated to admit it; it was time to get up. A slight feeling of disappointment crept into the back of his head, but he shook it away. Surely, performing mindless, repetitive tasks would help him sleep later. It was time to surprise his housemate. He would clean up the bar. Smiling at the idea of her being pleasantly surprised, he stretched and made his way to the chest of drawers. Pulling on a pair of pants, and the nicest beater he could find, he descended down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible.

As soon as his feet hit the wood flooring of the first floor, a sudden wave of intense paranoia came over him. Either he was going absolutely crazy, or someone was watching him. Adrenalin coursed through his veins. Fight or flight mode had kicked in quickly, due to his fatigue. He could feel the eyes on him. Burning holes through his very soul. He moved slowly toward the light switch and flicked the lights on. The bar was empty, as was the rest of the house. Despite his edginess, he grabbed a dust rag and began to clean, looking over his shoulder every so often… just to make sure no one was there.

It was a bolt from the blue. The lights flickered wildly. The garbage disposal turned on and off. The phone rang. The appliances were going crazy!

"This isn't happening…" he muttered to himself, Mako-blue eyes glancing around the room. But who he heard could not be seen by the eye. He could only listen. Articulating every word, the dreaded voice spoke.

"Oh, but it is. It's a pleasure to see you yet again, Cloud." A pain hit him square in the gut and he doubled over, his eyes still wide and flickering across the room. The appliances shut off, and all at once, he was lying, curled up, on the floor. "Oh yes, your dear barmaid **will **be getting such a surprise when she finds you. And also, when she finds **me**." The voice was sinister and rang loud in his ears.

"Sephiroth… if you touch a hair on her head… I swear, I'll kill you again," Cloud managed, through his teeth.

"Oh, I won't be able to touch her for a while," he said. Cloud swore that it sounded as if he were smirking. "That's where you come in."

"I won't let you control me." Sephiroth snorted.

"Like I'd resort to something that archaic. I'm merely going to use your body, Cloud. You'll see…"

"Sephiroth, tell me… _How are you doing this_? Why _are you doing this_?"

"How and why, Cloud? _How and why do I do anything that I do_?" The voice chuckled sinisterly. The burning pain in Cloud's stomach became worse. "Now be a good boy, Cloud. Go to sleep." His vision became hazy--

"Sephiroth…!"

"Sleep. And forget." Sephiroth's voice faded… His world began to darken. Cloud slept. And he forgot.

The morning came, too slowly, to Tifa's dismay. Her dreams had not been pleasant, to say the least. She had had the same reoccurring nightmare since the day she opened the Seventh Heaven in Edge. She'd wake up, in her dream, get dressed and wake the kids for school. Then, she would go downstairs to cook them breakfast. It started like any typical morning. But when she opened the door to the bar…

She shuddered and shook her head lightly, trying to get rid of her thoughts of the dream. She pulled on her skirt and zipped up her shirt. Today was Saturday. The kids could sleep in until nine, though Marlene would wake around eight, then Denzel would rouse at eight-thirty. They'd eat breakfast and watch some cartoons. She made her way to the staircase, noticing Cloud's bedroom door. _Wide open, that's strange. It's always closed._ She dismissed her thoughts and descended down the staircase.

A sudden uneasiness coursed through her veins. The door to the bar was open. The lights were on. "Cloud…?" she called, tentatively. "Are you in there?" She inched her way to the door, and peeked around the doorframe. "I'm… I must be dreaming. Please. I'm dreaming." Her legs wobbled, but carried her over to the man on the floor. She dropped to her knees, her hands reaching out to touch him. Her eyes gave him the up and the down. He looked so fragile… She felt like if she touched him, he would break. He was pale and sweating heavily. His Mako-blue eyes were clenched shut. His breaths were shallow and ragged. Hesitantly, she place a hand on his head. _He's burning up…_ she thought, placing her hands on his shoulder, trying to shake him awake.

Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other. He gazed up blankly at Tifa. _What am I doing down here…?_

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly. He nodded. "You have a fever…" He shrugged, _I must have sleepwalked because of the fever._

"I'm fine. Really. It's not… as bad as it looks." Tifa frowned. "Okay, maybe it is." She stood, trying to help him to his feet. He grimaced against his will as he straightened out.

"Cloud, what hurts?"

"N-Nothing," he lied, earning a silent glare from Tifa. "Okay, okay. You win. My stomach." She helped him to the living room and sat him in a chair.

"Lift it up," she sighed. He looked confused. "Your shirt. Lift it up, I want to look."

"…Tifa," he sighed, "You can't _look _at a _stomachache_." Another silently glare. "…Okay, okay." He lifted up his shirt, expecting the skin underneath to be normal. Tifa recoiled, staring wide eyed at the disgusting bruise that marred his perfect skin.

"What is _that_?" she muttered, staring. "No wonder your stomach hurts." He glanced down at his stomach, staring at the massive bruise. A deep blackish purple at the center, lighter purple, fading to green and yellow around the edges. "Well, I should get you something for that fever." She tried various spells and potions, but nothing cured the fever. Nothing healed the bruise. Her brow creased with worry. "Do you know how you got that?"

"I can't think of a single thing." He shrugged, "Maybe it's related to the fever?" He immediately regretted saying those words. She was going to call a doctor. She sauntered over to the house phone. Picking it up off the hook, she dialed the number of the doctor who had come to care for the kids a few times. "No, please don't-" He tried to get up, but crumpled to the floor. "Damn," he muttered, noticing Tifa's wide, wine colored eyes staring holes through him. The feeling felt vaguely familiar, and the bruise pulsated. Absently, he pressed a hand to his head. He felt as though his innards were melting… but even through the pain, the last thing he ever wanted to see was a doctor. No matter how sick he was!

"No, it's not either of the kids, this time. Yeah, it's Cloud." She paused. Unable to force his body to move, his form dropped to his hands and knees. And on all fours on the floor, he began to heave. "Yes. It's an emergency. Please hurry." The pair heard soft footsteps growing closer by the second. Tifa shot a glance toward the clock. _It's eight o'clock! Marlene!_

"Cloud…?" He didn't want to look up at her. He couldn't show her his face. He fought to hold back the contents of his stomach. "…Are you alright, Cloud?" She asked again, now at his side. "You don't look so good." A bead of sweat made its way down his face.

"I'll…" he inhaled deeply, "I'll be… okay."

"You're sick, aren't you? You can tell me if you are. Denzel, Tifa an' me will take care of you."

"Can… can you do me a favor… M-Marlene?" He could feel it rising in the back of his throat. She nodded.

"Anything!" Came her reply. Normally, he would have smiled, but he was so focused on holding back his vomit.

"T-Tifa. Get her. T-the bucket." He managed, talking through a strong heave. Marlene frowned. Tifa, now off the phone, bolted toward Cloud with a bucket in hand. He didn't look up, he just watched as the bucket slid under him. Marlene and Tifa winced, hearing Cloud retch softly. Tifa watched the liquid spill from his mouth. It splattered up the sides of the bucket, but did not splash out on to the floor. It coated the bottom of the bucket. Tifa knew it wouldn't get in the way, but she held his damp hair out of his face. Marlene rubbed his back as he coughed and gagged. His body kept heaving, trying to get rid of everything in his system. The heaves stopped producing anything, so he leaned back, gasping. Eyes closed. Tifa stared at him before picking up the bucket. He was visibly shaking and white as a sheet.

"I'll clean this out." He shook his head.

"No, no," he mumbled weakly. She raised an eyebrow.

"…Are you going to throw up again?"

"No…"

"Then let me clean it." He kept shaking his head.

"No, let me clean it out; s'my fault it's dirty." A small smile perched itself upon her lips as she shook her head.

"If you want to do anything for me, go get in bed. The doctor will be here soon." She took the bucket to the utility sink in the laundry room. He frowned lightly and used a chair to pull himself to his feet. Marlene held out her hands. She knew, realistically, she couldn't stop him from falling on the floor, but she could at least try to break his fall. He gripped the banister tightly and made his way up the staircase. Marlene followed him, her hands still out, ready to attempt to catch him. He made it to his room, but collapsed just short of the bed. Marlene shouted for Tifa, rousing Denzel in the room down the hallway. He poked his head out of the door of the room he shared with Marlene. Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Cloud's not feeling too well," Tifa said, making her way down the hallway to Cloud's bedroom. She helped him to bed and pulled up the covers. Denzel made his way to Marlene's side. "Kids, could you go downstairs and wait for the doctor to come?" The pair nodded, "Thanks, you two." The children ran downstairs. Cloud sunk down into his covers. "Hey, you."

"Tifa, did you have to call a doctor…?" he asked quietly. Absently, she took his hand.

"I'm sorry, I know how much you hate doctors."

"I just hate being poked and prodded," he corrected quietly. "…Bad memories." Suddenly, he realized she had his hand, a look crossed his face. A priceless look, in Tifa's eyes. He was slightly embarrassed. She squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Excuse me… am I interrupting anything?" Tifa jumped up, taking back her hand.

"Hello, Doctor. Um. No, you're not interrupting anything," she said, straightening out the ruffles on her skirt.

"So, Tifa, is this my patient?" Tifa nodded, "Hello, there, Mr. Strife." The doctor gave a sincere smile, "I'm here to poke and prod you back to health." Cloud shrank into the covers even more.

"_Great_." The word left his mouth in a whispered sigh.

"Tifa tells me that you've got quite a sizeable bruise on your abdomen. Mind if I take a look?" Cloud shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes," he replied, Tifa huffed. "Uh. No." Cloud peeled back the covers and lifted his shirt, revealing the bruise. The doctor ran his fingers over the surface of the discolored skin, making Cloud grit his teeth slightly. He couldn't understand why the bruise hurt so much; he'd been thrown around, bitten, scratched stabbed and shot, but nothing hurt like this did.

"That's quite a bruise. If it doesn't start to fade, call me. That should heal up on it's own." He placed his hand on Cloud's brow, making the severely uncomfortable blonde squirm a little. "Hmmm. Treat the fever like you normally would. Lots of bed rest--" Cloud grumbled to himself silently. "-- lots of fluids." He smiled. "Feel better, Mr. Strife. I'll see you later, Tifa." He exited.

"Was that so bad?" Tifa questioned, pulling the covers back up. Cloud frowned. "Hey--"

"--I'm fine--"

"You heard the doctor, buddy. _Bed rest_. _**Now**_." Reluctantly, he shut his eyes. Tifa brushed a hand through his blonde locks. He found himself unable to fight back the impending unconsciousness.

"I don't… want to go to sleep," he mumbled, through a small yawn. She smiled, watching him finally drift off.

"Goodnight, Cloud."


End file.
